


Up To Icicle Inn

by bouncymouse



Series: Shinra Holiday 2020 [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romance, ShinraHoliday2020, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouncymouse/pseuds/bouncymouse
Summary: Stranded by the weather, Reno isn't feeling very festive. Luckily for him, somebody else is. For #ShinraHoliday2020
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Reno
Series: Shinra Holiday 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057700
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36
Collections: Shinra Holiday 2020





	Up To Icicle Inn

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 (late) of #ShinraHoliday2020, for the prompt "Up To Icicle Inn."
> 
> Pure fluff. What else can I say?

They were stranded in Icicle Inn.

 _Of course_ they were fucking stranded, stuck in this godforsaken tourist trap. He didn’t know why it surprised him. Things had gone wrong from the very beginning, and even Tseng’s ice-cold patience was wearing thin.

The village was a Christmas nightmare. Coloured lights flashed at him from every shop window, illuminating tacky gifts and overpriced skiing gear. Decorations hung from every available surface. It was like somebody puked festive cheer all over town.

Reno didn’t want to ski. He didn’t want to look at fat old men in red suits, and he definitely didn’t want to buy mass-manufactured snow globes proclaiming _‘season’s greetings from Icicle Inn’._ He wanted to go home.

This sucked.

Admittedly, he wasn’t in a brilliant mood. He had a bruise on his ass that was already turning purple, and a yellowing mark beneath his right eye. It was an occupational hazard of being on security detail. There were many anti-Shinra meatheads in the world, and he’d run into a couple. Nasty types. Fucking huge… but he sent them running with their tails between their legs, no problem.

That was the story he told Tseng, anyway. It wasn’t completely a lie. The frozen puddle was pretty nasty, and his ego couldn’t take admitting to the boss he’d slipped in the snow.

Fucking snow. Fucking Icicle Inn. Fucking _everything._

There was a Christmas Tree in the middle of the square, decked out in more gaudy lights and decorations. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his Shinra-issue black parka and headed for the tinsel-covered railing that cut the tree off from any lurking vandals. Leaning back on his elbows against the rail, he weighed up his options.

It was still early evening. The light was odd tonight, the setting sun painting the snow in pastel pinks and orange tones which, he supposed, were kinda pretty. Ironically, the weather actually wasn’t that bad. It was a snowstorm over the Midgar Area that cut them off from home, and it made more sense to hole up here than risk an emergency landing in some backwater town. Fresh snow fell in the resort during the early afternoon, but the sky was clear now, promising freezing temperatures overnight. 

It was already cold now. Peppy music blared from the only tavern on the square. Not even the rich smells wafting from its kitchen could tempt him to brave the audial assault. He didn’t dislike Christmas, he just didn’t enjoy having it crammed down his throat.

He wished he was working, but Tseng insisted he took the evening off. The President was making use of the spa facilities, and wouldn’t be leaving the hotel. It hardly warranted both of them sitting around so Tseng cut Reno loose, coolly suggesting he try to come back with a better attitude.

Maybe he’d go back to their hotel, not that there was anything to occupy him there either. His television only seemed to pick up the news network, and a channel devoted to archaeological digs in Bone Village, both in the local language. He had a mini-bar though, and he could charge it to the company account. Staring at the ceiling drinking tiny bottles of free booze seemed as good a plan as any.

A bitter wind blew through the square, worsening even as he stood there. Few tourists were braving the cold, most choosing indoor entertainment over a walk in the snow. Those that were mad enough wandered around, arm in arm and making moony eyes at each other. It was sickening to watch.

He did though, scowling at them from his lonely position by the Christmas tree. Whether it was the crimson and gold emblem on his jacket or the surly expression on his face, none of them seemed too keen to get close to him. There wasn’t much about his appearance that screamed peace to all men.

The mag-rod swinging from his left hand probably didn't help, either.

A bell jangled from a doorway to his left and he turned, momentarily distracted by the jolly sound. He spotted a familiar red and white bobble hat, its owner chatting animatedly to an elderly man in a green apron whom Reno could only assume was the proprietor of the store. It was a toy-shop, he realised, the window full of stuffed animals and wooden figurines.

She bade her goodbyes and turned towards the square. When she saw him, she froze, the proverbial deer in headlights.

He stared back.

Smiling uncertainly, Tifa Lockhart raised her gloved hand and waved at him. She had a paper bag clutched to her chest.

This was an interesting development. Unwilling to risk a curtain call of the frozen puddle incident, he waited for her to cross the square. 

“Hi…”

“What’re you doing here?” he asked bluntly before his brain could rephrase the question.

Her smile faltered. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m working.”

“Oh.”

“Security detail for the President,” he offered, as the initial surprise of her appearance wore off. He forced the scowl off his face, replacing it with his trademark smirk, and tried to string together a sentence that didn’t make it sound like he wasn’t happy to see her. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Yeah… It was all quite last minute. Barret’s looking after the bar for a couple of days and… well, I guess, here I am.”

“In Icicle Inn?”

She nodded.

“Didn’t fancy somewhere warmer?”

“Where?” she laughed. “They’ve even got snow in Costa del Sol.”

He considered her lithe form stretched out on the beach in a bikini with a cocktail in her hand. It was a tempting image.

“Anyway, I like the snow,” she continued, smiling nervously. “It was Reeve’s idea, actually. He’s here on WRO business… asked me if I wanted to tag along.”

Reno stared at her, daydream abandoned, as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“It’s been a while since I got out of the city,” she added when he didn’t appear to be forthcoming with a reply.

“That’s… convenient.” _Really_ fucking convenient.

Reeve Tuesti _was_ here on business. WRO forced their way into whatever deal Rufus was making, and ex-Director Tuesti was waiting at their hotel when they arrived. Rufus wasn’t impressed, although Reeve was friendly enough towards the President and his entourage. He was part of the Shinra old guard, even if his loyalties could be a little shady. The Turks still invited him to play cards occasionally. He and Tseng were still friends and besides, Reeve’s poker face was fucking terrible.

It wasn’t his presence that had Reno seething. He knew exactly where Reeve got the idea to bring Tifa along.

He was going to kill Rude.

“Did you hear what I said?” Tifa asked, head tilted as she watched him carefully.

“What?”

“I asked how long you’re here for.”

“Should’ve travelled back today but you know… shit weather.”

“Yeah, Barret said it’s pretty bad.” She held the paper bag a little closer to her chest. It rustled when she moved. “You don’t sound too happy to be stuck here.”

“I’m not.”

“I really like it here. It’s so pretty.” She sighed, her breath forming a wispy cloud in the air. “The lights and the decorations… it’s like a scene from a Christmas card.”

“It’s… something,” he replied carefully. “Guess I’ve been stranded worse places.”

He had, but he wasn’t sure she needed the gory details. Without them, the conversation withered and died. Reno scuffed his boot through the snow, exposing the wet flagstones beneath it.

“Well… I guess I should head back,” she said, after an awkward pause. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Yeah… you too.” He forced a smile.

She turned, and he caught her perfume in the frigid air. It brought the picture that had played on his mind for the last week into sharper focus. Tifa in the garden, breathless and laughing at the snowman they made, eyes sparkling and cheeks pink.

The words left his mouth before his brain could censor them. 

“Do you wanna grab a coffee?”

_Shit._

She looked back, surprised. “Oh…”

“It’s okay,” he added quickly. “I just-”

“No. I’d like that.” She smiled, and her whole damned face lit up. “Do you have anywhere in mind?”

He shrugged. The fur trim on his hood was itching his neck. The temperature suddenly seemed to have risen by a few degrees. “I’m open to ideas.”

“I know a place.” Her smile changed, growing more mischievous. Her eyes reflected the sparkling lights from the tree. “I think you’d like it… Really festive.”

He opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. “Lead the way.”

* * *

The coffee shop turned out to be his personal idea of hell. There were more gaudy lights in the windows, and Christmas songs blaring from the radio. Fake snow and foil strands covered an artificial tree in a pot next to the door, and somebody had hammered a large wooden sign into the ground beside it and coiled tinsel around the stake.

“Santa, please stop here,” Reno read out loud. _For fuck’s sake..._

Tifa turned, grinning brightly. “What do you think?”

“I think... I hate it.”

“It’s a good job we’re going there then.” She pointed to the far more understated shop-front next door.

There were tiny white lights twinkling in the windows, the only nod to the festive season. He could smell coffee in the air.

“Thank fuck,” he said with feeling. “Thought I was gonna have to take you down and do a runner.”

Her eyes shone. “I’d like to see you try.”

_Oh, no…_

She led him through the door. It looked more like a bar than a coffee shop, all dark wood and soft leather. There was a fire burning in the hearth across the room, more white lights twinkling around the mantel. The air was warm, the heat already thawing his icy skin.

“By the fire?” she asked, noting his wistful expression.

He followed her to a small table near the fireplace, with squat leather armchairs on either side. She left the paper bag under the table. He dropped his mag-rod on the floor beside it.

“I’ll get these,” she offered, slipping her puffy black coat from her shoulders. “I still owe you for helping me out.”

She was wearing a pale blue sweater with silvery snowflakes woven into the design. It fit her like a second skin, clinging to every curve. He stared, shedding his own parka and throwing it over the back of the chair. If Tifa noticed his roving eyes, she didn’t pass comment. She was too busy hanging her own coat up. 

He realised, belatedly, that some kind of response was in order. “Sure.”

“How do you take your coffee?”

His brain kicked back into gear. “Intravenously?”

“I don’t think it’s that kind of establishment,” she replied wryly. 

“Black, then.”

“Okay.” Tifa tugged her hat and gloves off and stuffed them into her coat pocket, before running her fingers through her hair. Dark strands were stuck to her cheeks and curled around her jaw. “I’ll be right back.”

He watched her, taking his PHS from his blazer pocket and placing it on the table. Over here by the fire, it was really warm. Shucking his blazer, he folded it over the back of the chair too, before reaching for his PHS again and scrolling for one contact in particular.

He found Rude’s name easily enough and tapped out a single word. _“Asshole.”_

The device buzzed almost instantly. All he got in response was a thumbs-up emoji.

He looked up. Tifa was deep in conversation with the barista, a young man with sandy hair who blushed when she smiled at him. Her jeans fit snugly too, highlighting curved hips and toned thighs. He knew all too well how powerful those legs were. He took advantage of the opportunity for a full appraisal. 

His evening was definitely looking up. He wondered what it would be like to peel her out of those jeans. Not that it was an option. Tifa was definitely off the menu, but it couldn’t hurt to look.

She headed back over, holding a tray in her hands. Reno watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked and tried to prise his mind out of the gutter.

“Sugar?” she asked, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

He shook his head.

She sat down, reaching for a packet of sugar from the bowl. “I take mine sweet.”

“You don’t get cream and sugar out in the field,” he said. “You’re lucky if you get coffee.”

“I remember those days.” She upended the packet over her drink before lifting the jug of cream from the tray. “What happened to your eye?”

He stared at her, momentarily confused. Then he remembered the shiner and the puddle. “Oh… Ran into some trouble outside the hotel.”

“Trouble?”

He nodded, faking a wounded expression. “It happens. You should see the other guy.”

“Does it happen a lot?”

“More often than you’d think,” he admitted, and this time his words weren’t a lie. 

“There’s still lots people in the world that don’t like Shinra.”

This seemed to be a dangerous topic of conversation. He nodded mutely.

As though she read his mind, she changed the subject. “You made an impression on the kids, you know. Marlene wouldn’t stop telling people how she helped _Uncle_ Reno carry his beer.”

“She’s a cute kid,” he said, scratching at a chip in the varnished tabletop. “I bet that went down well with daddy.”

Tifa’s smile faltered. “Oh… well… You know Barret…”

“Not really.”

“He’s got a heart of gold,” she said, a little defiantly, wrapping her hands around her mug.

“Oh, yeah? Where does he keep it?”

Reno didn’t think she appreciated his sarcastic response. She didn’t reply, staring into her drink.

He changed tack. “So… you like the snow, huh?”

She looked up at him. “It reminds me of home.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re from Nibelhiem. I’ve been there a few times.”

“Yeah…”

 _Fuck._ Of course he had. Shinra spent enough time in Nibelhiem screwing life up for the locals, and he doubted Tifa needed a reminder of that fact. He studied his own mug, watching steam spiral up from the inky surface. The silence seemed to go on for an eternity. He was bad at this.

“You know what I like the most about snow?” She asked quietly. She didn’t wait for a reply. “It doesn’t matter how dirty something is… snow makes everything look perfect.”

“Some things are too fucking dirty,” he muttered, picking at the varnish some more. “Believe me, I know.”

Alarm bells were ringing. This was a conversation he very much didn’t want to have with her.

Her fingers caught his wrist, stilling his hand. He looked up. Her dark eyes were liquid under the warm lights, her fingertips warm against his skin. 

“Let’s worry about that when the snow melts,” she said. “How does that sound?”

He shrugged, mouth dry. She let go of his hand.

Silence resumed.

“So…” His voice sounded hollow. A large part of him wanted to make an excuse and leave, but something about those eyes watching him had him glued to his seat. “You’re one of those Christmas freaks?”

He supposed he could've worded it better. She was looking at him funny, her expression confused.

He tried again. "You like all this festive shit."

“It was always a big celebration back home…” At first, her voice was melancholy. When she spoke again, it was brighter, like she’d flipped a switch and decided not to dwell. “There was always a huge tree and lights, just like the one in the square.”

“We should’ve got a tree in the office, but something came up.” Something _always_ came up. “Elena put fairy lights around the water-cooler instead.”

They'd ended up smashing most of the baubles too. It was Tseng's fault for calling them in on unnecessary overtime. Reno bet Rude he couldn't toss a bauble into the bin across the other side of the office and how was he supposed to know how darn breakable they were? By the time Elena got involved, they were already low on ammunition, and _nobody_ was as competitive as her when it came to stupid office games. She'd all but perfected her technique when Tseng stormed through the door.

“It must be a busy time for you… lots of events that the President gets invited to?”

He looked up, surprised that she’d made the connection. “Yeah.”

“Will you have time to visit your family?”

He didn’t have any family left to visit. “Nah… It’ll just be the four of us. What’s your plan for Christmas?”

This seemed a safer conversation, and far easier to deflect her away from making him talk about himself.

“Just dinner with the family,” she replied. “Cid and Shera are travelling down… And Barret will be there. Reeve said he’d try to drop in during the evening.”

“Nice.” Reno took a sip of his coffee, swallowing down the scalding liquid. “Nobody else?”

“Not this year.”

He mulled this over. No Cloud, then...

"So, what will you guys do?" she was watching him, an expression of genuine interest on her face.

"Dinner at Rude's."

“He cooks?”

“Oh, yeah.” He could picture the spread now. “Best meal I’ll eat all year.”

“He never struck me as a chef,” she admitted, lifting her mug to her lips. She spoke again before she took a sip. “It’s just so… normal.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well… we _are_ normal.”

She raised both in return, silently challenging the statement.

“Fine… As normal as a Turk can be,” he joked, grinning. “Is that better?”

“There’s absolutely nothing normal your job.” She was trying to sound horrified, but her lips were turning upwards at the corners despite her best efforts to keep a straight face. “Normal people don't carry a weapon, Reno.”

He feigned surprise. “They don’t?”

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe that’s why my neighbours don’t send me Christmas cards.”

Tifa’s voice wavered. She was trying not to laugh. “That could be it.”

Her smile really was very pretty. He caught her eye and the pink flush in her cheeks deepened, her attention diverting back to her coffee mug.

“So… What’s Rude cooking?” she asked.

“Food,” Reno hazarded, his grin morphing into a smirk.

“I kind of assumed that.”

“I just turn up and eat it.”

“Aren’t you going to help him?”

“Me?” He snorted. “No chance. I tried one year, and it did not end well.”

“Why not?”

“It’s like a fucking military operation. Wears me out just thinking about it.”

“You must do _something_ to help him.”

“I just turn up and eat it. That's all he lets me do." He leaned back in his chair, feeling far more comfortable. “The fire probably didn't help.”

She looked up sharply. “What fire?”

“That’s classified info, babe.”

“I’m sure.”

“Need to know basis,” he added conspiratorially, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair. “I bought him a new apron. It’s fine.”

“For Christmas?"

“Yeah.” He decided not to tell her about the dick-shaped bottle opener. Somehow, he didn't think she'd find it quite so amusing as he did.

She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on her hands. “So what does a Turk get for Christmas?”

"Tseng bought me a swear jar." 

"Appropriate," she laughed. “I imagine it’s pretty full.”

"Too fucking right," he said. "So, what's Santa bringing you?" 

"Oh… I don't know. There's nothing I need." 

"Last time I checked, you're supposed to gift people things they want, not things they need." He fought back a laugh, picturing the bottle opener. That didn’t exactly fit into either category. "What do you _want?"_

She wouldn’t meet his eye, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. "Oh… I don't know…"

"I think you do," he challenged, eyes on her mouth. 

"There's nothing I want," she insisted.

Feeling like he might've put her on the spot, he changed the subject. "So… Tell me what’s in the bag…” 

* * *

They stayed in the warmth of the cafe a long time after their mugs were empty. The barista kept making the rounds, pointedly cleaning the tables around them, until eventually, Reno accepted the hint he was trying to make and suggested it was time to turn in.

Tifa hadn’t bothered zipping her coat up, and her hat and gloves were still stuffed in her pocket despite the chill in the air. Reno found he was glad for the cold too, although he was fairly certain his temperature had more to do with the woman beside him than the roaring fire in the cafe.

Christmas lights still twinkled away, as did the stars overhead. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. The pink and orange sunset faded hours ago, leaving inky darkness, and Reno couldn’t even be annoyed by the festive music that still carried through the air. Somehow, the garish colours seemed less offensive, the decorations less gaudy.

Maybe Icicle Inn wasn’t so bad.

“It looks so beautiful at night,” she murmured, as they approached the tree in the square.

Reno wasn’t looking at the tree. He was watching the lights reflected in her eyes and was very much inclined to agree.

“I can make it from here,” she said. “My hotel’s just down the lane.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he offered.

“It’s late… don’t you have an early start?”

"Hopefully." His mouth split into a grin and he bumped her shoulder with his own. “There’s dangerous people walking these streets, babe.”

“I’m sure I can handle them.”

“I’m sure you can,” he agreed.

He felt lighter now, his earlier bad mood forgotten. Perhaps that was what made him ignore the alarm bells when they began to ring again.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said. “It’s been a laugh… all things considered.”

“What _things_?”

“Well... We _are_ enemies.”

“Enemies don’t help each other build snowmen,” she pointed out wryly.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Friends?”

“Hmm... I don't know if I'd go that far."

“Don't make me change my mind," he warned, tapping his mag-rod on his shoulder.

"Okay, okay..." She was laughing now, hair fluttering in the breeze. "I'm going now."

He pulled a face. "Go on then."

"I am!"

"Enjoy your Christmas."

“Yeah... you too.” She looked up, her eyes warm and dark and uncertain. “Goodnight, Reno.”

He kissed her.

Tifa froze. The chill crept between their lips as he pulled away, almost as surprised as she was.

“ _Shit…_ ” he said.

A moment later, her arms were around his neck, her mouth crashing against his. He kissed her back as though his life depended on it.

Her lips were soft and warm, and he could taste the bitter tang of the coffee on her tongue as he pushed his own past her teeth, desperately trying to drown out the voice in his head that was screaming at him that this was a fucking _terrible_ idea. Anybody could see them. Both of his bosses were sitting in the hotel just around the corner. He must've hit his head harder than he thought...

Tifa whimpered urgently, fingers curling into his hair, and the voice fell silent.

He cast the mag-rod aside, freeing both his hands to slip beneath her open coat. The knit of her sweater was exactly as soft as he imagined it would be. Giving no thought to the icy weather, he worked his way beneath it to splay his fingers against the small of her back. Her skin was warm and clammy, and it didn't take long for his hands to work their way beneath the waistband of her jeans, pressing her a little more firmly against him. She only kissed him harder, nails grazing his scalp.

He couldn't think straight. The hotel was five minutes away... Give it ten and he'd have her out of those clothes and crying his name. After that, all bets were off.

A bell chimed somewhere in the distance, breaking the spell.

She pulled away, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. He could see the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath her sweater, the garment askew from his over-zealous hands. His own breathing wasn't quite so steady either, his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

“Oh..” she murmured.

Suddenly, he was glad for the parka he wore. His suit was uncomfortably tight.

She stepped backwards, feet skidding on the ice. He caught her arms before she fell, fingers clutching at her coat.

"What-"

“Merry Christmas,” she blurted, tugging her sleeves from his grasp.

“Tifa… wait…”

Rooted to the spot, Reno stood and watched her hurry away.


End file.
